I used to drive kind of far to get to work. A couple of years ago I had a ten mile commute with fourteen stop lights. There were two different ways to get from my house to the office, but they each had fourteen lights and at rush hour it took about 45 minutes to drive. In Missoula, Montana, the little mountain oasis, I had a commute that wasn’t all that different than if I lived in suburban Chicago.
Driving begets driving, and as long as I was behind the wheel it was easy to run out to the box stores on Reserve Street after work or drive someplace for lunch. I went through about two tanks of gas a week, and in the height of my last summer at that job it cost more than $4 a gallon to fill the tank.
Twice a week I stood at the pump, and as the meter spun frantically I did the quick mental math to calculate how many hours of my life I was pumping into my Ford Ranger. It didn’t matter if I’d finished a project at work, landed a new client, or just played flash games all day, a tank of gas cost me about two hours behind a desk.
There’s a lot about that anecdote that is classically American, and a lot if it I consider bad form. But the worst part is that the foundation of our work infrastructure lies in our time, rather than what we do with that time. It tells us that we live in a system that doesn’t care what you’re doing, as long as you’re doing it at your desk.
When you are hired at a new job, conventional wisdom gives that your employer is purchasing the work that you will produce during your tenure. Conventional wisdom here is wrong. Your boss is actually purchasing 2,080 hours of your life each year, give or take, and betting that you will use that time to produce at least your salary in value.
Of course, this assumes that you’re working a white collar job as a software engineer or something, but the fight to increase minimum wage factors into this in a big way as well. A minimum hourly base pay is, essentially, a safety net within a free market that all but guarantees that certain inscrutable employers will exploit their workforce at any opportunity. Forget for a moment that it’s not working (hence the national debate on raising the minimum wage), and remember that this position has a point. Workers in industrial America had a pretty rough go of it.
But the existence of minimum wage legislation is a necessary evil within a fundamentally flawed way at approaching work. It encourages slow, inefficient progress and allows the (arguably obsolete) 40 hour 9-5 grind to kill our fellow countrymen slowly over a 40 year career as an insurance salesman.
Advances in technology increase our capacity to work effectively at an exponential rate. In most industries you will not be expected to churn out work at that same accelerating rate, the same way you’ll probably be fired if you start showing up to work increasingly infrequently. The result is that there’s a tremendous amount of time wasted in the average office. Your employer pays for it financially, and you pay for it with something a lot more valuable.
Even the kinds of jobs that tend to pay hourly (and low) wages place value and ownership on the person, not the work. A job on a construction site or a fast food restaurant should compensate employees in terms at least of shifts, if not as a function of production.
If the difference appears mostly semantic, you’re not wrong. Payment by the hour or payment by the shift is basically just a different breakdown of the same job. But writing a job description to a task, rather than the time it might take to do it is a significant shift in thinking. The way we define pay informs what we value as a culture, and most of us work in a system that incentivizes being inefficient with the one thing we can’t make more of.
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